Classic Revenge (28 page)

With effort, Trish pushed her doubts aside. It was too
late to change anything now. Besides, Edna had her cell
phone in case anything went wrong, and all they were
going to do was question Clarissa, not accuse her of anything. Everything would be fine as long as they were
careful and kept their wits about them. She glanced sideways at Millie, who was sitting beside her in the front
seat of the car. Unfortunately, her friend usually had
trouble keeping her wits about her. Hopefully, today
wouldn't be one of those times.

Millie was pouting. She kept glancing every so often
at Clarissa's house and letting out huge sighs, frustrated
that Trish and Edna had both vetoed her idea of banging
on the woman's door at six-thirty in the morning. "I still
say it's not too early." Millie had been at Trish's house
promptly at five-thirty A.M., and seemed surprised, and
more than a little put-out, that Trish was not already
dressed and ready to go.

Trish looked at her watch. "Let's wait another fifteen minutes," she said with forced patience. She was
just as anxious as Millie was to confront Clarissa, but
common decency demanded they at least wait until
eight o'clock.

"Now, remember, Millie," Edna said, "we let Trish
start the conversation with Clarissa. We're just the backup. If we all start talking at once, she's liable to tune us
out" Edna looked tired, with bags under her eyes and her
complexion a little pale. But receiving a phone call at
six in the morning from a wild woman exploding with
energy would tend to do that to anyone.

Millie sighed loudly and slumped in the seat. "I
know, I know. But, believe me, I'm going to keep an eye
on her expression. If I think she's lying, or covering up
something, then I'll give you a signal, Trish."

"You don't think I'll be able to tell if she's lying?"

"It never hurts to have two pair of eyes on something."

Trish grinned. "So, what's the signal going to be?"

Millie thought for a moment. "I'll roll my eyes."

"Now, that's what I call subtle"

Millie shrugged and looked at her watch, then suddenly sat upright. "Come on, it's time!" She was out of
the car before either Trish or Edna could blink.

Edna sighed and got out of the car, smoothing her blouse. "Actually, I'm surprised we kept her in the car
as long as we did."

"I heard that!"

With Millie leading the way, they crossed the street
and approached Clarissa Jones' house. The curtains
were drawn and the front porch light was still on. Millie
marched up to the door and rang the doorbell.

"Thanks for giving me some time to compose myself," Trish whispered angrily.

"You're welcome"

"What if she's not at home?" Edna kept looking over
her shoulder, whether to scope out a path to escape or to
see if anybody was watching, Trish wasn't sure.

Millie pressed the doorbell again. "You asked that
before, Edna," she said in a voice praying for patience.
"Her car is probably in the garage. We've been here for
over an hour, and we know she hasn't left"

"Of course, we don't know if she ever came home,"
Trish pointed out, just as they heard the front door rattle.

Millie threw a sly smile over her shoulder and then
stepped back behind Trish. "I told you so"

The front door opened and a tall woman dressed in
a long, blue bathrobe, her tousled blond hair showing
dark roots badly in need of a touch-up, stood glaring at
them. Trish guessed by the frown on her face that she
wasn't too happy to have visitors, but there had been an
instant, just before the frown had fully settled in place,
where Trish had noticed a spurt of surprised recognition cross her face. Did she remember Edna from the
other morning at Mary's? If so, she must think they
were there to sell Avon. That would definitely explain
the irritation.

"Can I help you?" The voice wasn't too friendly, ei ther. Deep and husky, and full of impatience, she sounded
as though she deeply regretted answering the door.

"Are you Clarissa Jones?" Trish asked.

The woman's dark, brown eyes narrowed slightly.
"Who wants to know?"

"Can we come in, dear?" Edna's smile was friendly
and understanding. "We would really like to talk to you"

But Clarissa started to close the door. "I don't think
so. I'm late for an appointment."

"It's about Tom," Trish said quickly and stuck her
foot in the doorway. That was not too smart for someone planning to start a vigorous exercise program. She
could only pray that Clarissa would have enough compassion not to slam the door shut. "It's important."

"I believe it's in your best interest to hear us out,"
Millie piped in.

Clarissa looked at them for a minute. "Oh, all right,"
she said with an exaggerated sigh, "come on in." Opening the door wider, she stepped back. "But why you
think I want to hear anything about Tom is beyond me"
It wasn't the warmest of invitations, but Trish would
take it.

They walked into a small tiled foyer. Stairs leading to
the second story were in front of them, with a living
room to the right and a dining room to the left. It was
rather dark with the curtains drawn, but the house appeared clean and airy with a minimum of furniture and
knickknacks.

Clarissa closed the door and gestured toward a beige
sofa against the far wall of the living room. "Have a
seat. I'd offer you coffee, but like I said, I don't have
much time."

Trish and Edna sat down, perched on the edge of the overstuffed sofa. Millie, however, made the mistake of
sitting all the way back. She was struggling to sit in
an upright position when Clarissa chose the armchair
across from them and said, "Okay, so what's so important? And, you can start by telling me who you are"

Trish could feel Edna's and Millie's eyes on her.
Clearing her throat, she clasped her hands in her lap to
keep them from shaking as she looked Clarissa straight
in the eye. It was so important that they get as much information from Clarissa as possible, yet this strategy
could very well backfire. Clarissa could clam up and
throw them out, and in the worst case imaginable, she
could tell Tom why they had come to see her. Trish
took a breath and said, "You were seen at Mary Chavez'
house the day she was murdered"

Clarissa leaned back and casually crossed her legs,
but not before Trish noticed the sudden death grip she
had on the arm rest. "Who?"

Trish's gaze held steady. "You know who," she said
quietly, but firmly. "And now I believe you know why
we're here"

There was perfect quiet in the room. Millie had finally surfaced from the cushioned seat of questionable
comfort, apparently none the worse for wear. "We know
that Tom killed Mary, and we also know that he killed
a very good friend of ours, Susan Wiley. Now, we believe you could be in extreme danger yourself, but we
can't help you unless you tell us everything you know."
Millie paused for effect, her gaze never faltering from
Clarissa's. "And, by the way, we don't have a lot of time
ourselves, either, so start spilling your guts"

Trish held her breath. She could tell by Millie's voice
and attitude that she was trying to come off as gang tough. Unfortunately, it didn't come off as such. She
wanted badly to stomp on Millie's foot unobtrusively to
hush her up, but Millie's feet didn't quite reach the
floor, and if she shoved her in the side, Clarissa would
see the action and know they were bluffing.

"We're trying to help you, dear," Edna said in the ensuing silence. Her voice was gentle and soothing. "We
know you were at Mary's, and then you were seen at
Tom's mobile home"

The reaction they got was not what was expected. Instead of questioning them on how they knew these facts,
or how they came to suspect Tom, or, for that matter, how
they had found her, Clarissa seemed to almost smile before she suddenly leaned forward and buried her face in
her hands. Crumbling into tears, she sobbed, "I've been
so frightened. You don't know Tom. You don't know
what he's capable of."

Edna quickly got up and went to comfort Clarissa,
patting her softly on the back. "There, there, you aren't
alone anymore. You have nothing to be afraid of any
longer."

Millie looked over at Trish, her surprised expression matching Trish's thoughts. Clarissa hadn't denied
anything !

Millie fought to keep the glee from her voice. "Tell us
what you know, Clarissa," she said. "We have friends on
the police force who can help you"

After a moment, Clarissa sat up and rubbed her eyes
with the palms of her hands. When she started to speak,
her voice was soft, almost as if she was afraid Tom
would overhear. "I don't know where to start"

"The beginning would work for us," Millie said helpfully.

Clarissa nodded. "I didn't know Susan Wiley had been
murdered, not at first, anyway. I was out of town and
didn't hear anything about it until a few weeks later. I'm
sorry to say I immediately suspected my ex-husband"

Millie quietly reached over and grasped Trish's arm.
Was this it? Were they finally going to get the proof
they needed to clear Sam? Had it all really boiled down
to one man's jealous rage against another? Trish fought
the urge to hurl specific questions at Clarissa, knowing
it was important the woman tell her story in her own
way, but there was nothing wrong in guiding her.

"Why did you suspect Tom? What did he have
against Susan Wiley?"

Clarissa gave a bitter laugh. "He didn't have anything
against Susan. But Sam, he hated. Tom blamed Sam for
everything wrong in his life. That's why we got a divorce,
you know. His hatred of Sam became a living, breathing
thing. It consumed him. Well, I'd finally had enough. I
told Tom to get over it, to be a man and get on with his
life. He ... he hit me," she said, lowering her eyes.

Trish fought to keep her expression neutral. They finally had it the confirmation they needed to show that
Susan's murder had only been a by-product of an attack
against Sam. How could anybody hate that much? And
then she answered her own question: only someone
who was mentally and dangerously unbalanced. "So
that's when you left him?"

Clarissa drew a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "Yes.
Tom was angry and he put the blame of our divorce on
Sam Wiley, also. Actually, I hadn't seen Tom in quite a
while, but after I heard about Susan, I went over to his
place to confront him. I knew if he was guilty I would
have to go to the police with my information."

Millie tried, and failed, to hide her disgust. "Why
didn't you? An innocent man has been charged with
Susan's murder, and all along you've known who really
did it."

A sudden chill ran up Trish's spine. It was almost as if
the air stopped moving and a cold energy enveloped them
as Clarissa's gaze flew up to meet Millie's. Her stare
lacked any emotion or essence; it lacked ... humanity.
But the moment passed as quickly as it had started, and
Trish began to doubt her own perception. After all,
Clarissa was dealing with her own guilt and her own
fears, and having someone openly accuse her of cowardice couldn't help the situation.

Trish placed an arm around Millie and felt the angry
trembling in her shoulders. She felt the same, knowing
what poor Sam had been through, but that fact wasn't
going to help them right this minute. They still needed
evidence from Clarissa, and alienating her would be a
mistake.

"Millie, nobody knows what they would do in this
situation," she said soothingly. "What's important is
that we're getting to the bottom of this, and it will soon
be over."

A moment passed. "I'm sorry, Clarissa. Of course,
Trish is right. I had no right to jump on you. You were
very brave even attempting to find out if Tom was guilty.
Please go on with your story" Millie's voice was conciliatory, but Trish was aware that her trembling hadn't
stopped, and anyone who knew Millie would know that
the apology was as fake as Clarissa's long fingernails.
It evidently calmed Clarissa, though.

"That's okay." She smiled weakly. "I'm sure I'd react
the same way. The thing is, when I went to Tom's, he didn't deny it. He was even bragging about it. He said
something about how he could start moving forward
now, and that we could get back together. But he said
something else that scared me to death" Clarissa drew in
a ragged breath. "Apparently someone else knew about
it ... this Mary Chavez. He didn't say how she knew,
only that she was blackmailing him. He showed me a
letter. He had it in his bedroom in the night stand. He was
yelling and waving the letter in the air like a madman. He
said he had given her some expensive earrings to shut
her up, but it wasn't enough" Clarissa shuddered and
then looked at them. "He told me not to worry about it,
though. He would take care of it."

"Oh, my goodness" Edna gasped, "that's why he
killed her"

"I went to Mary's to try and warn her," Clarissa said,
her voice breaking. "I know you were there," she said
with a glance at Edna. "I didn't think you looked like
the typical Avon lady, but nothing was registering at the
time. I had to warn Mary!" Clarissa's eyes fell. "Unfortunately, she didn't believe me. She said I was just jealous, that she and Tom were going to get married as
soon as she could get a divorce. If only that were true,"
Clarissa said through her tears, "then maybe Mary
would be alive today"

Trish let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. So much of this they had already suspected. However, it still didn't explain why Clarissa didn't go to the
police.

"Clarissa, why didn't you go to the police when Tom
confessed to killing Susan?" Edna asked gently, reading Trish's mind.

"I was afraid," she said fiercely, as though angry with herself. "My mother is still alive. She lives a few miles
from here, and Tom knows I would do anything to protect her. That's why he threatened to hurt her if I said
anything. He said this would all blow over, that we could
have a normal, happy life again. God, he made me sick!"
she said vehemently, balling her hands into fists. "But I
believed his threats. And, then, when I heard that Mary
Chavez had been killed, I knew for a fact that he was
crazy, that he would do anything to justify his actions
and protect himself. I couldn't take that chance with my
mother's life. I'm in the process of getting her out of
town for a couple of weeks. She has a sister in Dallas.
Once I knew she was safe, I planned on going to the police." Clarissa sat back in the chair, visibly drained, but
with a calm expression.